A World of Doubt
by Rosalie Barvik
Summary: Beverly and Richie have a heart-to-heart. Bevchie friendship. Teen!Losers. T for language.


_Chk,chk,chk. _A single flame flickered to life, sputtered out. _Chk, chk, chk. _Again. The flame was there, the flame was gone. _Chk, chk. Chk. _Nothing.

"Goddammit,'' Beverly muttered. She tried again to bring a sustainable flame to life. The lighter was out. She blew out a frustrated sigh and chucked the lighter off the cliff. Beverly watched as it fell, growing smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared in the water below with an inaudible splash. "Goddammit,'' she repeated.

"He might if you use the magic word,'' a voice chided behind her.

Bev sighed again. She pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "Hello Richie,'' she said without turning around.

Richie sat down beside her. "Hey Bev.''

They neither spoke nor looked at each other for a long while. Comfortable silence was something Beverly had always been grateful for. She loved how she could hang out with her friends without having to make occasional random comments to dull any awkwardness. This made small-talk among the Losers a rarity. They said what was needed, and left what was better unsaid alone. Even Richie, who opened his mouth at every possible opportunity, knew when someone needed silence. Still though, it was Richie. Beverly expected him to talk at any moment now. But, in the end, it was Bev herself who started the conversation.

"I don't want to talk about it,'' she said.

Richie glanced at her for the first time. "I wasn't going to bring it up.''

"Then why are you here?'' She snapped more aggressively than she meant to. But Richie wasn't offended. He just raised an eyebrow at her for lashing out.

"Oh, don't pretend to be all mature now!''

Richie laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it.''

They lapsed back into silence.

"Say,'' Richie began, "do you always throw shit around when someone pisses you off, or is that a new thing?''

Bev glared at him.

"What even was that?''

"Lighter.''

Richie nodded comprehensively. "Gotcha. Hey, do you remember the first time we all came out here?''

Beverly eyed him suspiciously. "Of course.''

"You got our crazy asses to jump off this fucking cliff.''

"Yeah.'' A slight smile crept onto Bev's features. "I remember.'' It was one of her fondest memories.

"This place's a helluva lot prettier in summer.''

"I guess,'' muttered Beverly. She had never taken Richie for being any sort of sentimental being. He had always had more of a "fuck it all" persona. But he was right. The quarry _was _a helluva lot prettier in the summer. The lake sparkled emerald under the hot sun. The stone of the cliffs surrounding it was baked warm, perfect for stretching out and tanning on. The tall trees of the forest provided shade in some places, over-hanging the cliffs in others. The cloudless, blue sky spread out for miles. It was a million shining shades of green, blue, yellow, and a gentle brown. But now it was late autumn and the colors were losing their fervor and the sun was losing its brilliance. The sky was flooded with lumpy gray clouds. The trees had lost all leaves but the dry, ugly brown ones. The lake was a dull, stagnant, murky body of water. A nasty chill bit the air. It cut Bev, sharp as a knife, through her jacket, layering ever inch of her skin with goose bumps. A storm was coming.

Richie reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a fresh lighter.

"Oh my God!" Beverly gasped. "Where'd you get that?''

"Found it in my garage. Not sure how old it is, but it's never been used, so it should work fine.'' Richie flicked the top open. _Chk. _A steady flame appeared. Richie grinned. He turned to Beverly. "Lend me a cigarette and I'll let you borrow this.''

Beverly pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket. She handed one to Richie, who expertly clamped it between his lips and lit the opposite tip. Then he passed her the lighter and she did the same. She inhaled the smoke, grateful for the warmth of it. When she ran down here on a whim, Bev had expected to smoke. She was unprepared for her lighter to be dead.

Beverly and Richie sat close together, smoking their cigarettes in another wave of companionable silence. When enough time had lapsed, Bev decided it was now or never. She had to ask. "How upset is he?''

Richie inhaled deeply, blowing out a large plume of smoke. He pushed his glasses up. "You don't fucking get it, Bev.''

"No,'' she replied miserably. "I don't think I do.''

To her surprise, Richie took her icy bare hand. His hands were no warmer, but provided comfort just the same. "I didn't come all the way here just to give you some shitty lecture on how you broke Bill's heart. You're well aware of your own fucking actions. But since you asked, he's not great at the moment. You already knew that shit too.''

To her horror, Bev felt tears rising in her eyes and her throat tightening. "I didn't mean to hurt him. That's — that's not what I wanted. I never . . . Fuck.'' She scrubbed furiously over her eyes. Beverly had broken up with Bill after school that afternoon, only hours before. She'd planned to discuss it privately with him that evening. Make it as gentle as possible. But she had been so nervous and on edge that she had just ended things with him in the schoolyard, in front of everyone. And then she had run away. To the quarry.

Beverly felt terrible. Bill deserved better. He deserved a reason, a kind word, and a promise. _We'll still be friends after this. _That was the most important part of what she had planned to tell him that night. She was ending their relationship, but she still cared deeply for him and wanted to remain close friends. It also would have been nice if Beverly had explained why she decided to break up with Bill before she bolted.

This was what happened. School ended. Bill invited her to hang out at his place. Beverly, instead of taking advantage of the privacy they would have there, panicked and blurted out in front of all the Losers, "I think it's time we end things between us! I'm sorry, I don't love you anymore!" And then she couldn't bear the look of shock and pain on Bill's face and she turn and fled.

The worst part was she didn't even mean what she said. She _did _still love Bill; just not in the way he wanted her to. Not the way she once had. She loved him. She loved all the Losers. But she wasn't _in love _with him. Not the way she had in eighth grade. They had really just been kids back then. Now they were sophomores in high-school. They weren't who they used to be.

"Did he send you to talk to me?'' She asked quietly, fingering her cigarette.

"Nah,'' said Richie, "he'll be okay. Stan and Mike are taking care of him. Besides, I already told you I didn't come here to talk about your shitty boy drama.'' Richie smiled, but the movement was unusually tight.

"So why are you here? Just to hang out with some loser?"

"We're all Losers, darling.''

Beverly rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too now.

"There!" Richie exclaimed triumphantly. "I've cheered you up! Phase one of my mission is complete. Now, on to phase two. . ."

Bev waited expectantly, but Richie trailed off. He stretched his long legs out and scooted closer to the edge of the cliff. He swung his legs off the edge and leaned forward. _Careful, Richie._ Bev knew if she gave him any sort of warning, he would laugh at her and move even closer, upping his chances of plunging into the freezing water below. Beverly repositioned herself next to him, letting her legs dangle over the cliff as well. "Phase two?'' She prompted.

"Phase two,'' Richie repeated, gazing into the foggy abyss below. "My shitty boy drama.''

Bev cocked her head. "What?''

Richie wouldn't meet her eyes. "This isn't because you broke up with Bill; I was planning to talk to you about this today anyway. It just coincided badly. I . . . I've been wanting to tell you for awhile.''

"About what?'' Beverly's voice was hardly more than a whisper. _Oh, God, oh, God. Don't say it, Richie. _Bill had been in love with her and, for a long time, Bev had been in love with him too. Ben, she knew, had worshipped her for as long as they'd known each other, although she had never felt anything but friendship towards him. Beverly supposed that's what she got for being best friends with six boys. Odds were more than one would have a crush on her. These odds were Bill and Ben. The other boys though; Mike, Stan, Eddie, and Richie, had only ever viewed her as a friend. She knew. Or at least, she thought she knew. Now Bev was having terrible doubts.

But Richie did something she did not expect. He looked her in the eye and said, in the softest, most gentle, and terrified voice she'd ever heard,"Eddie.''

Beverly blinked. It took her a moment to understand. Richie's "shitty boy drama" . . . Eddie. "Oh my God,'' she said. "You're in love with Eddie.''

Richie nodded, ever so slightly. Just a dip of the head.

Beverly laughed. Such was the relief! "Christ, Richie! I thought you were going to say you were in love _with me!"_

Richie looked horrified. _"You? _Jesus, Bev! I — fuck no! You're like my sister!''

Shaking her head, Beverly laughed again. "That's what _I _thought! I mean, that's what I thought you thought about me! You scared the shit out of me!''

After they had composed themselves and the majority of the giggles had subsided, Richie adjusted his glasses and asked, "so, about the Eddie thing . . . You aren't mad?''

"Why would I be mad?''

"I dunno, it's fucking weird!"

"Which part?'' Beverly asked. "Being in love with your best friend?''

"No,'' said Richie, hunching his shoulders, "being in love with another boy.''

"Oh.'' Beverly considered this. A person being in love with someone of their own sex — there was a word for it . . . homosexuality? — was uncommon, but not unheard of. They tended to be looked down on by society (especially in Derry, the shittiest town on the east coast), which made many of them afraid to tell anyone. Bev herself couldn't see anything wrong with it. "Why does it matter?"

"Just because,'' Richie shrugged. "It's not normal.''

"Does that make it bad?''

"It makes it fucking weird!" Richie was agitated in a way Beverly had never seen him shaken like before — and that was including some certain clown business they'd gotten themselves into in middle school.

Bev rested a hand on his shoulder. "Richie,'' she said, "look at me.'' He did. His eyes were scared, trapped. He looked liked a puppy that had been kicked one too many times. "When, in your entire life, have you ever given two fucks about being weird?''

Richie bit his lip. "Never.''

"Why does it matter now?''

Richie seemed to consider this. "It doesn't,'' he said slowly. "But what will the others say?''

Beverly laughed. "First the first time in your life, you're overthinking, Richie. The others aren't going to care—''

"I can't tell them,'' he interrupted forcefully.

Bev sat back. "Why not?''

"Because if I told any one of them, I would have to tell the rest. That's why I wanted to talk to you, Bev. Only you. It can be our secret.''

"It doesn't need to be a secret!"

"Yes, it does! It really fucking does!'' Richie's voice was strained, and his eyes were suddenly full of tears. "I can't tell the others,'' he said, voice breaking, "because then I would have to tell Eddie. And I can't tell Eddie because I couldn't live with his rejection. I just couldn't live with it, Beverly.'' He slid his hands under his glasses, palms pressed into his eyes. Beverly wrapped her arms around him and he began to shake.

"Richie,'' she murmured, cheek pressed into his dark mop of hair, "Eddie would never reject you.''

"Yes — he — would!" Richie sobbed.

Beverly pulled away from him. She cupped his tear-stained face in her hands. "No, honey, he wouldn't.''

"Why not?'' Richie sniffed.

"Because he's in love with you too.''

Richie's eyes widened in shock and wonder. "Eddie . . . loves me?''

Beverly nodded confidently. "There always has been something deeper than friendship between you two. I noticed it right when I met you. I'm not surprised you love Eddie, but I know for sure he loves you.''

"How the fuck do you know that?'' Richie wiped his eyes, some of his old spirit creeping back into him.

"The way he looks at you when he knows you don't see. How he always moves to be next to you, no matter where we are. And he's all too eager to impress you.''

"You're shitting me.''

"Nope. I know Eddie doesn't mean to show it, but he worships you.'' _Just like Ben does to me. _

"You're sure?'' Richie asked uncertainly.

Bev squeezed his hand. "Positive.''

"So,'' Richie shifted positions again, "what should I do?''

"You should tell him how you feel,'' Beverly said instantly.

Richie's shoulders slumped. "Already told you. No.''

Beverly sighed. She wanted desperately for her friends to be happy. And she knew that Richie wouldn't be happy until he told Eddie how he felt. She understood why it was so difficult, but she didn't think that fear should hold Richie back. Still, she couldn't force him to do anything. "Okay. Fine. You don't have to tell him.''

Richie looked up, surprised that she had let it go so easily.

"But,'' Beverly began and Richie smiled ruefully, "you have to tell him someday. It doesn't really matter when, although sooner would be better than later.''

"Okay.'' That was a compromise. "I'll tell him someday.'' Then, catching Bev's eye, Richie added, "Sooner than later.''

They didn't speak again that afternoon. They sat in their companionable silence for maybe a quarter of an hour longer, then Bev stood up, pulling Richie along with her. They exchanged smiles. Unspoken 'thank you's. Then they parted ways, heading into the leaf-bare forest in different directions. The storm came and went. They both arrived home soaked and shaking, but feeling worlds lighter than before.


End file.
